The One That Got Away
by Nyoom-is-the-word
Summary: Plagued by nightmares, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, a new student at World Academy, became entranced by those familiar Hazel eyes, the same eyes that tormented his dreams. Why did Lovino seem so familiar? Does he hold the key to Antonio's nightly torment? (Rated T for language, fluff, and dark themes.)


**Well, back with a story that _will_ be finished.**

**Warnings: Feels, character death, fluff, implied self harm, poorly written Italian and Spanish, (Using my limited knowledge of the language, and partially G****oogle translate to check.) Swearing, and finally implied homophobia, and if you want to count my writing skills. **

**Yup, that is all. Enjoy. **

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><p>Lovino tapped his nails against the desk, in a rapid, furious, motion. His head rested not so comfortably on his hand, leaving a red mark on not only his palm, but his cheek. It was all he could do, to keep himself from flipping a table- or a person. That's right, Lovino Vargas, the 'cold-hearted, anti-social,' older Italian, was troubled by a person.<p>

The new kid, with the shining green eyes, and unruly, curly chocolate brown hair. This surprised him, he spent so many years pushing people away, and building walls. Yet... this kid just waltzed in the door, and he instantly struck Lovino as someone to reckon with. And the worst part, was that kid didn't even know what he was doing to Lovino; Actually, it's what he wasn't doing. Not once has that kid flashed his gaze in Lovino's direction, and for some reason, that irked the older Italian to no ends. He didn't understand why he craved attention from the new kid, he just did. Simple as that.

"Goddammit..." He muttered darkly to himself. Trying to force the thought of that damned new kid out of his head. Lovino shot a glare in his direction. Suddenly, bright green eyes flickered in Lovino's direction. His breath hitched in his throat. Those emerald eyes feigned curiosity, and... what was this familiar feeling that pooled in Lovino's stomach. It felt as if he'd seen those eyes before... Oh shit, how long was he staring at him?! Lovino quickly put on his signature glare.

"The fuck you looking at, bastardo?" Lovino scoffed, at the slightly confused new student. He could only stand there, and stare back at the Italian. His shoulders tensed and his eyes widened, as if he was realizing something.

But suddenly, he laughed. That's right, that bastard had the nerve to laugh at Lovino. The fuck? His eyes squeezed shut, as he held back some girly ass giggles. "L-lo Siento, mi amigo! You just reminded me of someone, that's all!" His emerald gaze returned to Lovino, and a goofy smile coated his lips. He took a few steps towards the angry, blushing, Italian, stopping right by his desk. With one swift motion, he held his hand out, "Hola! My name's Antonio!" Lovino cautiously took Antonio's hand, a bit surprised by the kid's overly eager, yet friendly hand shake. For a second, his hand lingered, causing Lovino to pull away violently.

Lovino peered at Antonio, curiously. "Lovino," He muttered quietly. Unexpectedly, Antonio's shoulders became tense once more, and his eyes... They looked almost desperate, pleading, and in pain. As if a horrible memory punched him in the face. It drastically contradicted the smile he seemed to hold perfectly. Lovino couldn't explain it, but the look in the Spaniards eyes were unsettling, he needed to change the topic immediately. "So, what's with your stupid accent?"

Antonio's eyes seemed to return back to their normal, shiny emeralds; At least, that's what Lovino assumed to be normal. "I just moved here from Spain! I lived with my Madre, but she just passed away, so I moved to America-"

"I asked you about your accent! Not your life's story, you dumb-ass." Lovino barked a little too harshly, at Antonio, he instantly regretted it. However, his worries began to fade as Antonio didn't even seem phased by it.

"Lo siento! I have a bad habit of rambling." He explained. Lovino glanced behind the Spaniard, noticing the cold gaze that scone bastard was throwing him. The fuck? It's a known fact that Arthur hates everyone, but... He hadn't even met Antonio yet, how could he already hate him? It just didn't make sense. He'd have to ask, Antonio about that.

Unfortunatly for Lovino, a stray hand brushed against his curl, eliciting a violent reaction from Lovino, "C-chigi!" He hissed angrily, blushing madly. Antonio, that dumbass only feigned innocence, but Lovino could practically sense he knew exactly he was doing. "The fuck are you doing, you shit stain?" He screached quietly, careful as to not draw a scene. "Are you really that perverted!"

Antonio smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry," Sorry my ass, "It just looked so cool! I couldn't help myself." Lovino smacked him gently upside the head at that, "Ow! Lovi, why'd you do that?!" He whined.

"Because you fucking deserved it- Wait, Lovi?!"

"Si! It's your nickname, all my friends get one! I think it's muy lindo!"

"I can't fucking speak Spanish, or whatever that crap is you choose to speak! And who said I was your friend?!"

"Will you be my friend?"

"Oh, you think you're so smart don't you, you asswipe!"

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><p>The confrontation between Antonio and Lovino, still left an uneasy imprint on his memory. Why did that fuck face seem so... familiar? It felt as if he'd seen those shining eyes before, but where? It seemed as if Antonio felt the same realization. Lovino laughed. That bastard is awful at hiding his true emotions, they say the eyes are the windows to the soul; that was definitely true for Antonio. Maybe they crossed paths at a store, or a park? No, that couldn't be possible. He claimed to have transferred from Spain recently. Whereas Lovino had been living in America since he was six.<p>

He groaned, "Why...?" He couldn't figure it out. He needed to know why that Spaniard looked so familiar. Those chocolate curls, that seemed so stylish and purposefully wild, yet, Lovino would bet all the Armani in his closet, that Antonio didn't give a flying fuck about his hair. His gorgeously tanned skin, that obviously knew the light kiss of the sun. His stupidly, handsome smile- Wait what?! Lovino mentally cursed himself. You shouldn't think of a guy that way! I-It's plain wrong! Right? Lovino let out another aggravated groan. This Antonio was going to be nothing but trouble-

"Hey, Fratello," A high pitched voice muttered beside him, "You're really quiet and it's kind of freaking me out," Feliciano poked Lovino's shoulder. "Something happen today? I saw you talking to that new kid. I thought you had finally made a friend, but it seems like I was wrong-" Lovino sent an angry glare in Feliciano's direction, silencing the younger Italian.

"Nothing happened, he's a complete bastard,g and what do you mean 'Finally made a friend'? I have friends!" He contradicted his younger brother's accusation. Feliciano skipped ahead, only to stop right in Lovino's path, causing Lovino to walk face first into the _slightly taller,_ younger man. "Hey- watch where you're going-"

Feliciano shrugged, "I'm just saying, you don't make friends easily, you yell at a lot of people, and you're quiet scary." Feliciano explained. "So, when I saw you talking to the new kid, I was really happy for you! But you look troubled, what's wrong?" Damn Feli getting into my damn business. When will he learn, all that Lovino is good for, is causing drama.

"Feliciano." Lovino stated, "Nothing happened, and I'm fine dammit... I'm just thinking." With a harsh, but gently shove, he pushed Feliciano out of his way, "Now come on! It's cold out here and I want to get home before Nonno chews our asses out." Well, more like Lovino's ass. Lovino was not in the mood to listen to another lecture about exposing 'poor Feliciano' to the 'cold' Autumn air of Sacramento, California. In Lovino's opinion, 60 wasn't that cold. But his family thought differently. Being Italian and all, they were used to warmer weather. Well, Nonno and Feliciano was. Excluding his half brother Romeo who lived back in Italy; Correction, he lived in the Principality of Seborga. Lovino had been living with his father here since he was only six years old. It was his parent's divorce that caused his father and Lovino to move to America by themselves. Feliciano was too precious to take away from their Nonno, so he remained in Italy. It was their father's death that brought them too America. Of course, Lovino was originally supposed to move back to his home country, but Feliciano insisted on moving to America. Being the loved child he is, Nonno immediately accepted, and turned their mansion back in Verona, Italy into a make shift vacation home. It was pathetic if you asked Lovino, but he couldn't complain. He hated living in that giant house, he always got lost. And... don't tell anyone, but it made him feel alone. Of course, that shit is too cliche, so he'll never admit it.

"Okay, okay. We can talk later," That shit stain wasn't going to give up, easily. "But let's get inside first! I'm freezing!" Feliciano grabbed Lovino's hand, and pulled him to their apartment building. Lovino was half-walking, half-being-dragged along. But he couldn't complain, he didn't want to be out here any longer than he had too. It wasn't that he hated the outdoors, he just preferred the comfort of his own home more. Feliciano harshly pulled him into the building that housed their penthouse apartment. It was a little too expensive for Lovino's tastes, after all, he'd been living in a crappy two room apartment most of his life. Well, Lovino found it to be quiet decent. It had everything they needed to live, so there was no reason to complain. However, too Feliciano's standards, it was 'inhumane' to make someone actually live in those 'conditions.' the first impression Feliciano gave off during their 'reunion', was that of a spoiled child, it irked Lovino.

Feliciano skillfully navigated through the crowd of people in the lobby, and to the elevator. "Ciao~!" He smiled as he waved to the Elevator Operator; a tall man from Sweden, whom was a man of little words.

He let go of my shoulder, allowing me the freedom of walking to into the lifting machine myself. I stepped inside, and stood close to Feliciano. That Elevator guy always gave me the creeps. He was tall, his whitish blonde hair was cropped in a strange manner, almost similar to a certain white-haired, red-eyed, bastard, at Lovino's school. However, this man was too silent to even be compared personality wise. It's even rumored this man had a thing for their male Finnish lobbyist clerk, who is a self-claimed 'delicate flower.' So, he couldn't be all that bad. E-Except the liking a guy part. B-Because that's wrong, that's what his Father, always told him.

"Oi, top floor, pronto." Lovino said in an authoritative tone. The tall man obeyed and hit the button at the very top. Okay, Lovino had to admit, he enjoyed living here a little. He could boss people around like this. It was nice. No one would question his authority, and that's just how he preferred it.

A pregnant silence filled the box, causing Feliciano to shift uncomfortably. Lovino preferred the silence, however Feliciano was different. Feliciano needed a distraction at all times. As the door opened, Feli happily skipped out, ready to get out of the suffocating, awkward, silence. Lovino nodded to the man, and grumpily stomped out the hall. He followed Feliciano's quick steps to the door of their penthouse.

"Ve, you're so slow, Lovi!" Feliciano chimed in a sing-song voice, looking behind him, as he skipped down the hall. With a loud thump, Feliciano slammed right into the door. Before Lovino could react, the younger Italian brother was on the floor. A pained moan left his lips, "Why does this keep happening?" He muttered.

Lovino giggled, "Serves you right, dumb-ass. You should have looked where you were going," Lovino had little sympathy towards his brother. As he _was _asking for it. "And, _Che cosa hai detto, si stronzetto?!" _He hissed in his native tongue. Oh, hell no. Lovi? What is this? Give Lovino a shitty nickname day?

Feliciano giggled knowingly as he stood up, right hand on the side of his head. "I heard that kid call you it! I thought it was cute, so I want to do it too!" Lovino gave him a horrified look, so that bastard had been listening in?! Dammit Feliciano, doesn't he know better than to eavesdrop?! Lovino watched angrily as Feliciano twisted the door knob, allowing the two entrance to the apartment.

"Ciao, Nonno!" Feliciano called, already inside the door. Lovino followed suite, shutting the door firmly behind him. He made a direct beeline to the stairs, straight to his room. Lovino was tired, and confused. All he wanted was to retire for the rest of the day. Lovino made his escape as quietly as possible. However, a voice stopped him.

"Lovino," Nonno called from behind him, "Are you going to hide from me forever?" He asked, his voice drenched in concern, but Lovino couldn't afford to care. All he wanted was the solitude confinements of his own room; his sanctuary. Where no one could judge him, compare him, and hate him. It was the one place he could look forward to being. The one place he'd never want to leave.

Lovino didn't even bother turning around. "Si," he mumbled quietly, continuing his endeavor up the stairs. Leaving behind his only family. He didn't mind, he was used to the lonely embrace, and he didn't mind it, in face, he felt comfort in it. Shutting the door behind him, he slowly slid down, clutching his knees, holding them close to his chest.

Lovino Vargas is alone... And that's alright.

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><p>Antonio was a happy man. Always smiling, laughing, and rubbing his sunshine attitude off on anyone who dared interact with the Spaniard. It's the way it's always been, <em>around people. <em>Alone, Antonio succumbed to his own fears, nightmares, and loneliness. No, his mother wasn't dead. He felt sick, lying like that. But that's what he did, to avoid the truth. He told himself that she was dead. Dead to him. In fact, his mother kicked the young Spaniard out, after Antonio revealed something dangerous about himself... Dangerous indeed. He moved to America with the little money he had left, and stayed with his long term friend, Francis. The Frenchman happily agreed to let Antonio stay as long as he'd need. Until he could get on his feet. In turn, Antonio cleaned the house, and would occasionally cook, if Francis would let him, that is.

Antonio was very grateful for his friend, so much so, Antonio vowed to not become of burden. He didn't tell Francis much of his feelings, no matter how many times the French man asked, Antonio kept his lips sealed. Especially so today. Seeing those hazel eyes, awoke something in the Spaniard, something he couldn't quite place it. It was a nostalgic feeling, it was painful, and if Antonio's suspicions were correct, he had something to do with the nightmares that plagued Antonio since he was a child.

But what can you do? He would ask himself. It's not like he could tell Lovino what he was thinking, that'd be too weird. He'd most likely scare the Italian male away, and never get the answer. Antonio had to get close to Lovino, and find out what the hell was going on, no matter what it took. Yes, that was his plan, he'd follow through. Maybe it seemed selfish, but he didn't care. He needed answers, and needed them soon, if he wanted this horrendous nightmare to leave him.

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><p><strong>I shall update soon, laters. <strong>

_**Hola - (Sp) Hello**_

**_Pronto - (It) Hurry_**

**_Che cosa hai detto, si stronzetto?! - (It) The fuck did you say, you little shit?!_**


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